


Thoroughgoing

by enmity



Category: Persona 2, Persona Series
Genre: Carbonara ;-;, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: “You know you can tell me anything.”





	Thoroughgoing

**Author's Note:**

> this follows through the final scene of the p2ep -- i think it would shake up even someone like her a little bit. i'm not totally happy with this, but i wanted to close the year having written a little happy for this ship, haha.

Maya had her bad days too, though Ulala wasn’t sure if she thought of them as such. Her friend had always seemed to her like the type who’d shake off a missed opportunity or an unpleasant interaction with a flippant shrug of the shoulders or a flick of her wrist; all her problems but wisps in the face of her winning smile and tried-and-true motto. There were no bad days, just imperfect ones. It was one of the things Ulala used to hate her for, before she learned better.

Still, she’d known Maya for years. Whether bad or imperfect, when Maya kicked off her boots and stumbled from the doorway straight onto the couch, cushions practically absorbing her, Ulala felt something was up. She looked over from the kitchen as she heard the flick of the TV being turned on, then over the ensuing bout of canned laughter she greeted warmly, “Welcome home.”

“Mmmngh,” replied Maya, who turned her head so that her face was muffled by the pillow.

“At least get changed. I’m making dinner.”

She made carbonara because it was easy, and had a classy feel to it. She remembered being fourteen, failing her first dish, her theatrical despair. _However would she find a husband now?_ It seemed foolish now, to be worked up over something like that, but she forgave herself for having been a girl. She’d thrown the burnt affair into the trash and wiped the stains, and she hadn’t felt sad for long. It was worth it to keep trying, she’d reasoned.

When she reached over the shelf for the pasta it struck Ulala that she’d been right. It was worth it, certainly, though not for the same reasons she’d thought. She smiled mutedly into her hand and hurried to check the fridge for eggs.

Once everything else was done she sprinkled the parmesan onto the plates and slid them on opposite sides of the table. She’d washed her hands, and now her palms smelled of soap, an indistinct kind of sanitized fruitiness. She slid the unknotted apron off and went to call for Maya, who had just stepped out of the shower and was now clad in pajamas not upsetting in that they were sorely mismatched, but that they did nothing to detract from the rest of her. The towel on her head certainly didn’t either.

“Ugh. You’re getting water everywhere,” complained Ulala, nose wrinkling, and didn’t care that sometimes she felt more like a mother hen than a girlfriend. She shooed her out, “Go dry up first.”

“Sorry.”

After they’d dumped the dishes into the sink to soak they found themselves back on the couch, TV tuned to a movie Maya had rented as Ulala picked at the blanket enshrouding them and tried not to smile at her own luck. Maya pretended to be engrossed by the screen, but Ulala had known her for years, and so she knew better. She nudged her elbow softly and asked, “Did something happen at work?”

Maya smiled innocently, “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Something seemed up. That shitty boss of yours snub you again?”

She didn’t answer for a while. The movie went on running, and during a quiet moment Maya spoke up again, clutching the blanket closer to herself until Ulala saw her knuckles begin to pale. 

“It’s nothing like that. I’ve just been thinking.”

“Bad day, huh?” She took hold of one wrist, rubbing absent circles onto it in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. Ulala felt her face color, then added, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Thank you,” said Maya, and didn’t say anything more for another moment. Maybe she wouldn’t. Ulala supposed she wasn’t yet used to not being the one keeping secrets. “It’s okay! I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” she murmured back, and found that she meant it. From the way the other woman stilled, she didn’t need to ask to know that Maya believed it, too.


End file.
